It took one hour, a tense breakfast, and Erdor’s apparent lack of care or indigestion (apparent because Erdor was pretty sure he had some) for Night to warn him, in no uncertain terms, to “Stay away from the prisoner.”

  Erdor had absolutely no intention of doing so. “Are you hiding something from Sir Uwain?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Night simply continued to glare. “I do not have time to pander to your pathetic limitations,” She said sharply. “Do not interfere in my business–” Her expression very clearly added the ‘Anymore than you already have,’ part. “And I shall have the information that Uwain needs as soon as possible.

  Unfortunately for her, Erdor really didn’t want her to have that information. Still, he only stared at her without further questions until she turned away and left, presumably to the prisoner.

  Erdor immediately got to work, following her until he saw her enter the stairwell – knowing full well he was behind her, likely – and then turned back around and headed to the office where she had first welcomed him. There, he spared a look for anything out of place, confirmed that there wasn’t, and then slipped behind the desk, eyes spanning over the documents that he wasn’t sure why a witch even had. But then, this was a very odd witch, wasn’t she?

  The top few documents served to be receipts of the products that the old merchant probably brought, so Erdor ignored those, and looked at the books instead.

  Some of them were tomes of gardening, which was ironically funny for a witch who harnessed the powers of nature. Still, a few others seemed to be magic grimoires, lined with and bursting with magic, and part of Erdor was oh-so-interested in finding out about them. In learning magic (in seeing if he even could).

  He pushed them back with supreme force of will and continued looking, but he failed to come across any book that seemed to mention legends or Belawain.

  He frowned and stepped away from the table.

  The rest of the room was similarly fruitless.

  Groaning, Erdor left, pacing slowly through the hall as he considered his next steps. Escaping with the prisoner was still, obviously, the end goal for this little pitstop, but he had hoped that there would have been at least some other information to help him corroborate what the barkeep had told him. To help confirm whether these caves really weren’t a waste of time.

  No, he wouldn’t find any documents or books, at least not in the open. And he couldn’t very well ask openly about the caves, not while he was pretending to be Uwain’s emissary — Uwain, who apparently knew what was there to know about the caves.

  If Erdor had time or a dead end, he might even have gone back to town to find and ask Uwain what he knew. But Uwain was long gone, and Erdor did not, in fact, have time.

  Which meant he had to find and get the prisoner’s help today.

  … It would be difficult. The witch was obviously suspicious of him. Rulan, he was yet to even find this prisoner! But if he could find a point in the day whence Night was otherwise busy, he could rush upstairs to investigate, find the answer, and then escape with them.

  He turned to a window, leaning closer to peer outside. The garden lay spread out, with a few patches to one side growing small and frail little plants, and Erdor’s mind immediately flashed back to the tome on gardening. If Night was growing plants, if she was learning the normal way, and, most importantly, if she was going to go out to tend to them, no matter the time of the day…

  Erdor smiled. Well, he had his opening, didn’t he? Now, he just needed to find a way out.

  This time, he made a detour to the potions room.

  Night still had not descended from wherever she was torturing the prisoner, so Erdor had a bit of time. He slipped into the room, his nose automatically wrinkling at the smells before getting used to the odors, and then made his way to the bottled and stoppered vials. For all her chaos, Night had titled them, and though Erdor had to leave and then return with a book on potions that he had pilfered from Night’s collection to figure out the names, he did manage to understand them at some point.

  Emptying his bag of the items he could replace in the next town – including paper and ink, though he mourned the loss of the rich parchment he had procured to write to his family just one month ago but had not yet managed to use, too distracted by this new hope of a cure – he checked the bottles and placed some inside. Posion would have been interesting to choose, but ultimately not worth the hassle. Instead, he picked up what he was fairly sure was a potion for knocking someone out, just in case he got the chance to use it on Night. He also picked up camouflage tinctures and a small bottle of healing potion, the only one he could find, and hoped Night wouldn’t be too angry at his thievery.

  … Oh, who was he trying to fool? She would be furious, and it would be only compounded by his heist of her prisoner, too.

  But he had no other recourse.

  He left the room and then hovered in front of the library again. This time, however, he controlled his own impulse, for he might have taken that treatise on identifying potions from Night’s study, but he had no desire to challenge his self-control in a place a million times more dangerous. He had no space to carry more books.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He shook his head and stepped into the closest room, opposite his own temporary accommodations, and peeked out the semi-ajar room, trying to keep an eye out for Night.

  It took an agonizingly slow hour for her to trudge down the stairs and then further down. Erdor shifted to glance at the garden but, with a frown, realized that Night wasn’t actually going there, no matter how long he waited. Still, she was seemingly not returning to the upper floors, either, so dare he attempt…?

  Erdor took a deep breath and slipped out.

  Every step on the stairs felt heavier, and every breath was more difficult. Even more importantly, he felt like he was being watched, like something— no, someone was looking at his every move.

  But how could it be possible? Night had not jumped upon his back. She had not demanded he return downstairs, that he let her do as she pleased and not interfere. Night had not, indeed, realized he was not Uwain’s messenger.

  So it couldn’t be… could it?

  Erdor swallowed and continued on.

  The stairs kept going up, far more in height than the ones to the second floor, he was sure.

  But slowly, sure, he reached a door, and, breathing a sigh of relief at the fact that no stairs extended further up, grasped the metal ring attached to the wooden door. It was cool to the touch, and the door did not even creak as he opened it, and he stepped inside with a quick, relieved breath, for it felt as if a pressure had been relieved.

  A spell had been cast upon the stairwell. He was sure of it.

  He smiled wryly. Likely for his benefit, too, if his host’s glares were any indication.

  But there was a lightness in his step as he walked forward, even as he noted morbidly how this floor seemed to be made entirely and utterly of cells. Was it not common for prisons to be made in dungeons? But witches, apparently, preferred them to be several stories up.

  Shaking his head to get rid of unneeded thoughts, Erdor continued, glancing inside each room.

  And then— and then, he came across the only one that was occupied, and his breath caught.

  For within the walls of the cell stood a girl perhaps a couple of years younger than him, and she was so much more beautiful than he’d expected. (Then again, considering he’d been expecting an old man, for some reason, and a relic of a kingdom long past, that wasn’t saying a lot.)

  For a second, he stood still, frozen in surprise. Then the girl shifted and spotted him, her head snapping to look at him, her eyes wide and searching around him before landing on him again. She hurried forward, just edging the doorway, where the door was standing ajar.

  Erdor had no doubt it was spelled, though. “Don’t leave!” He exclaimed.

  The girl stopped. “Excuse me?”

  “There could be a monitoring spell,” He explained.

  The girl narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?” She demanded. “Did Artesia send you?”

  Artesia…? Was that Night? “She didn’t,” He said. “But I am her guest.”

  The girl bristled, her shoulders tensing. Still, she didn’t step back. “The guest she hates?” She asked carefully.

  Erdor couldn’t help the smile. “The guest she hates,” He echoed, then glanced around. “Have you told her about the Caves of Belawain?”

  The girl blinked. “What? No! Why is everyone–” She sputtered. “Who even are you?” She demanded. “And what are you doing here?” She glared. “And how do you know about the Caves?”

  So there was something. Erdor nodded sharply. “My name is Erdor,” He said. “As for what I’m doing here…” He glanced around again and then met her eyes. “I’m here to get you out.”

  The girl’s eyes flared in hopeful, desperate relief.

  Erdor decided on the spot, not to mention he was actually planning to kidnap her in turn… though, of course, he’d offer money first.

  “How?” She asked. “Did my brother send you?”

  There were people looking for her? That certainly made things complicated. He’d definitely have to offer money first. “Not exactly,” He said because he had no idea what her brother’s name even was, let alone what he wanted him to say to her. “But we can discuss this when we get out. For now, we have to find a way out.”

  “What, you still haven’t done that?” She asked derisively. “Some rescue.”

  Erdor narrowed his eyes in turn, the words leaving his mouth before he could caution them. “And what have you achieved in the time you’ve been here?” He asked archly. “Prisonerhood?”

  She pouted, and, for some reason, that just made her look more pretty— not that, of course, Erdor was looking. “I have been trapped within this room. You, however, have had the lay of the land.” She glared. “Why did Artesia even let you in if you’re trying to get me out? She doesn’t seem stupid.”

  “I’m an ‘emissary’ from her brother,” Erdor said, fingers curling in mid-air to emphasize the words. “The witch isn’t working alone.”

  The girl fell silent.

  Erdor rubbed the back of his neck. “Look,” He said more nicely. “I’ll figure out a way to get you out. But we’ll need to circumvent the spells around your cell and any around the exits. If we don’t have an escape hatch, the witch – Artesia – will capture both of us, and then there’ll be no plan left at all.”

  The girl’s shoulders drooped. “Yeah,” She murmured, defeated. “I know.”

  “I have some items,” He continued, not explaining where he’d gotten them. “A few potions, too, and they’ll help delay Artesia, if needed. I also have one for camouflage, and once we get out of the manor, we can use that to blend in and disappear into the forest. It’ll be easier after that.”

  The girl nodded, eyes flickering over him and—

  She stilled, her eyes widening, and Erdor turned, trying to see what had caught her attention.

  But all he saw was a window, and there was nothing that might have been useful for them.

  “I… might have a plan,” The girl admitted.

  “Huh?” Erdor asked.

  She grinned. “Are you afraid of heights?”